Things Better Left Alone
by JohnlockedTARDIS
Summary: When the Doctor takes Amy and Rory to spy on the lives of the famous consulting detective and the army doctor, he ends up finding that Sherlock and John aren't the only ones he recognizes.  Slash warning, but should be nothing too explicit. Maybe.
1. Checking In

**AN: I apologize for any mistakes, this is my first time writing Sherlock and Doctor Who fanfiction, let alone a crossover. Well, grab some milk and Jammie Dodgers and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Ah, yes, Holmes…I have you reserved for Room 834, The Sweetheart's Suite." The redhead smiled politely at the pair, handing out the key card for John to take. John sighed mentally, his face heating up only a little, as it always did when people assumed he and Sherlock were dating. He reached out to take the card and tried for a smile, only coming up with a grimace. "We're not a couple." The redhead smirked at the pair, the taller of the two showing no emotion whatsoever other than a small, barely noticeable tinge of pink tainting his pale face. "Okay, sure, whatever you say." Her Scottish lilt made it quite clear that one, she most definitely did <em>not <em>believe them, and two, she was very, very amused. John sighed audibly, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. He turned and started to lug his duffel to the lift.

Sherlock started, as if he had been woken up from a deep trance, nodded curtly once in Amy's direction, and walked briskly over to the lift to join John. Amy shot a mischievous sideways glance to her husband, who returned it with a grin. "See, I told you. My choices aren't always that bad, are they?" Rory smirked at her. Amy sighed fondly. "Ah, shut up, stupid face."

xXxXxXx

"Why is it that people always assume we're a couple?" John sighed exasperatedly for what must be the millionth time since they had started working together on cases. "I mean, honestly, you'd think that we screamed it at people." Sherlock said nothing, as usual, and they rode in silence up to their floor, with John occasionally muttering things under his breath along the lines of 'I mean really' and 'they just assume.' The elevator dinged open and they stepped out into the hallway, ornately decorated with paintings and flowers and the like.

They walked down the hallway until they found their room. John slung his bag higher over his shoulder as he inserted the key card into the door. Stuffing the card in his pocket, John swung the door open. "Bloody hell," he muttered disbelievingly, his eyes scanning the room. He walked in slowly, his eyes widening with every new thing he saw. Sherlock followed, slightly in shock himself.

The room was a pale cream color, decorated on the borders with small ruby red hearts. Off to the side sat a table draped in a luxurious velvet cloth, slightly darker than the hearts. The chairs surrounding it had a similar upholstery. In the very center sat a gigantic heart shaped bed, a sultry maroon red with soft, downy pillows to match. On one of the side desks sat a small brown paper bag. John picked it up and looked inside, blushing furiously as he looked back up. Sherlock, seeing this, took the bag from John and reached inside, pulling out a small box of condoms. It had a small note attached to it.

I know this room might be a bit suggestive, so just in case anything happens.

-MH

Sherlock blushed a bit as he read the note, handing it back to John. "I really hate your brother sometimes, Sherlock." Sherlock nodded his agreement before tossing the bag to the far end of the room where it wouldn't be bothered.

xXxXxXx

"You should have seen his face," Amy snickered. "He was blushing like mad." The Doctor grinned and nudged Rory. "Looks like you finally picked out a good one, eh?" Rory looked at the Doctor indignantly. "Excuse me, but I've picked out good places before." Amy rolled her eyes at her husband. "Yeah, you mean like the time you wanted to go to when the printing press was first invented? That's not boring at all." She stuck out her tongue teasingly. The Doctor shrugged when Rory turned to him. "It was really boring, we didn't even almost die." Rory sighed. Of course it wouldn't be fun for them if they didn't have a near-death experience.

The Doctor clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "But anyway," he said, cutting over Rory's protests, "Who booked Sherlock and John to stay in the Sweetheart's Suite?" Amy checked the log. "Just a second...oh, here it is...Mycroft Holmes." The Doctor let out a loud laugh, causing the people near them to stare. "Of course it was him," he said, ignoring this fact as he usually did. "He's been trying to get them together since..." he counted on his fingers, "About two years ago." Rory shrugged. "They do seem like a couple, though." Amy snorted. "Yeah, an old married couple."

"Excuse me." The Doctor turned his attention to the man behind him. The man stared at him, eyes scanning the Doctor's face for a trace of something that Amy and Rory couldn't comprehend. But the Doctor, oh, he had seen this look before. And he knew what was coming next.

"You're the Doctor." The man finally said, his eyes never leaving the Doctor's. The Doctor nodded. Amy and Rory looked on with confusion and slight apprehension. When someone knew who the Doctor was, it was never good. But they trusted his judgement and waited for his signal. "Do you remember me?" He inquired, tiliting his head slightly, the movement almost snakelike. The Doctor's face dawned with comprehension as he realized who this man was. "Ah, yes." Rory sat back in a more relaxed position as the Doctor said this. Amy, however, didn't move. It might even be worse this way, if the Doctor knew this man.

"Hello again, Jim."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, what did you guys think? If it's bad, I apologize again, but I've really only been working on this in the extra time I have in my Business Computer Technology class. Please tell me if there's anything I need to fix, grammar mistakes, longer chapters (I've been trying to write longer chapters, but you know). I'll probably update tomorrow (or today, whenever this is published), and the chapters will most likely be longer (this was kind of just a tester, to see what you guys thought). I'm making a vow to update my stories more often. <strong>

**Now go on. I'm fairly sure that no one has fed that little box all day, it would be very nice of you to feed it some reviews :)**


	2. Playing Games

**AN: Enjoy, my lovelies! Or try to, at least. :)**

* * *

><p>"Could you please stop that?" John looked up at Sherlock wearily, rubbing at his eyes. Sherlock had been pacing from one side of the room to the other for the last hour and a half, muttering random strings of words under his breath that was only comprehensible to him. John groaned as Sherlock continued to ignore him, falling back into the bed and turning over to bury his face in one of the pillows. Usually he could tolerate situations like this (because of course they happened all too often), but he had devoted three sleepless nights to finding evidence for the case, and he was dead on his feet. He was surprised he didn't fall asleep in the lobby. "C'mon, Sherlock, please! I'm <em>exhausted<em>," John's muffled voice complained.

"Well, go to sleep then." Sherlock didn't turn his head to look at John as he said this, merely continuing to burn holes in the velvet red carpet. It was probably a good thing that he didn't look, actually, because John had lifted his head off the pillow and was now glaring poisonous daggers at Sherlock. Annoyed, he threw one of the atrocious fake heart-shaped pillows across the room, pleased when it hit the surprised consulting detective. Sherlock turned his head sharply to look at John as the pillow ricocheted off his unusually sharp cheekbone. "John," he said, irritated, "I'm trying to think."

"And I'm trying to sleep." John replied, smiling just a little despite himself. Sherlock scowled as he saw the slight upturn of John's lips, until he brightened as he had an idea of how to get him back. Slipping on a mischievously dangerous smile, Sherlock stalked across the room and stood over John, his shadow looming over him. John spotted the expression on Sherlock's face and narrowed his eyes warily. "Sherlock, what're you -" John got cut off as the fluffy red abomination hit him across the face, leaving him shocked only for a few seconds. Sherlock smirked triumphantly as John gaped at him, but lost it as soon as John started to laugh. "What's so funny?" Sherlock pouted; annoyed even more that he didn't annoy John as much as he thought he would.

"Sherlock Holmes, in a pillow fight. Who would've thought?" John grinned. After a few minutes, his laughter died down and they were left staring at each other, until they burst into laughter again. "Hey, Sherlock," John said suddenly. Sherlock looked at him inquisitively. "Yes?" John flung the pillow in Sherlock's face, laughing at the look on Sherlock's face. "This. Is. War." He hissed, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed a pillow. John shrugged and armed himself too, grinning. This was going to be interesting.

xXxXxXxXx

"Jim? Jim who?" Amy asked, unable to restrain herself from asking questions. Rory's eyes widened as an idea came into his head. _It couldn't be…No. That couldn't be him_. Rory dismissed the thought, but only to reassure himself. The thought was still very much there. He sat up a little straighter with anticipation, just in case he happened to be right. The Doctor turned to Amy, but not before giving Rory a quick little warning glance: _Yes, it's who you think it is. No, I don't think we're in danger. Shut up anyway._ Rory gulped. "Amy, this is James Moriarty, otherwise known as Jim." Amy, hardly familiar with any of the names, nodded. "And you know him?" The Doctor nodded, smiling at Jim. He smiled a bit back, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Jim." Amy held out her hand for him to shake. Politely, Jim took it and smiled at her, too. Rory did so as well, but there was still a small spot of anticipation in his eyes, as there always was when he got the notion that they were about to run. That all hell was about to break loose.

"Jim, can I talk to you in the hall?" The Doctor motioned towards the exit. Moriarty knew that this man wouldn't hurt him. Well, he thought he knew. But he was prepared anyway, with Sebastian stowed away in the corner by their table. He looked at him, who was watching warily. He raised his eyebrows. _Do I shoot him? _Jim shook his head. _Not yet. _Sebastian relaxed and sat back in their booth, although still keeping his eyes on the pair. "Of course, Doctor," said Jim. He stole one last glance at Sebastian, who sighed internally. Well, at least their anniversary dinner wouldn't be boring.

When they got to the hallway, they spent several minutes staring at each other in an observational silence. For anyone else it might be uncomfortable. But not for these two.

"You told me to run."

The Doctor just kept looking at Jim, eyebrows half raised in a curious manner. "I find I have to do that often," the Doctor smiled at the smaller man, the grin not wavering when Moriarty didn't smile back. "There were…things coming after me." The Doctor nodded, remembering that day clearly. "Yes, those _things _were an alien race, the Raxicoricofallapatorians. Now usually, they're a very peaceful, friendly race, but the Slitheen family isn't as pleasant." Jim nodded, his mind taking him back to that day as well.

_21 years ago_

"_Come on then, Jim!" _

_Irritated, Jim looked up from his experiment (he had been calculating how fast it took to burn ants using different sized magnifying glasses) and turned his head in his brother's direction, where he was calling from the entrance of the park. "Jim, Mum said to hurry! She's making your favorite!" Jim's eyes brightened considerably as he heard this, and started to hurriedly pack up his magnifying glasses in their special case he gotten for his birthday. "I'll be there in a second, Charlie!"_

_Finally putting the last one in its place, he got up and brushed the stray dirt off his trousers, along with a few ants that survived the attack. As he looked towards the end of the park to let his brother know that he was ready, he found nothing. Charles Moriarty had disappeared, out of plain sight. Walking towards the spot where he saw Charlie, he started to call out, trying not to let his somewhat scared emotions show. "Charlie? Charlie, it's not funny, it never was. C'mon, Charlie, we have to go!" Now truly worried, he started to walk around the park, scanning every area quickly with his keen eyes. As an unusual out-of-place burst of bright olive green flashed at the corner of his eyes, his curiosity forced him to look back. _

_And he couldn't believe what he saw._

_A large alien (?) ran through the park, causing the other civilians to scatter, apparently terrified. Jim was about to dismiss it as a lame costume act until he saw something sickening in the alien's hand. He squinted, sure he was wrong. He had to be. _

_But then again, he usually never was._

_In one of the alien's long claws, he clutched what looked like a deflated version of what used to be his brother. A choking lump formed in his throat, seven-year-old eyes widening in fear. "Charlie," he whispered. _

_"I'm sorry." A reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder made him jump and automatically jerk away. A skinny man in a long brown coat looked at Jim sadly, his expression morose. "He's gone now, I'm sorry." The man's eyes blazed with anger and he turned to the alien, pulling what looked like a plastic light-up pen out of his coat. The stranger gave Jim one last apologetic look before running off, only to come back a second later. He leaned down and looked Jim in the eyes, making sure he had the small boy's attention._

_"Run."_

_And so he had._

_Jim had run back home, dragging his mum from the kitchen (quickly turning off the stove) and pulling her into his little nook in the attic. He held her there, unusually strong, until somehow, the strange man arrived. "I'm sorry, miss. Your son is dead. He was killed in a large massacre at the park; Jim here is lucky that he got out alive." Then his mother had started to cry. It wasn't hard to believe this man. There was something about him that looked like he had seen too many things to be willing to lie like this. _

_After a while of comforting and explaining, the man walked out of the house with a polite goodbye, leaving the two to mourn alone. They had learned that he called himself the Doctor. Still wanting more information, Jim tugged himself out of his mother's embrace and ran out the door, looking for the man. But the Doctor was gone. There was only a slight breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees, and the impact of the realization that his brother, Charles Moriarty, was really gone._

_He could've sworn he saw the outline of a blue box before he went inside._

All his life, James Moriarty spent at least half his time, looking for information on the Doctor. There was very limited information, but only recently he had managed to hack into the Torchwood's old files with the help of his faithful sniper (who had happened to work there around that time). And now, here he was.

"You've been very, very busy, haven't you?" The Doctor broke into Jim's thoughts, his tone now serious and slightly disappointed. Jim looked at the Doctor, noticing this. "Busy?" he asked in a bland voice. The Doctor frowned at him. "What happened, Jim?" Jim merely looked at the Doctor with a bored expression on his face. "What happened when?"

"What happened that made you into this?" Jim looked at the other man, his strange childhood memory. He couldn't help feeling a bit ashamed as he stared into the Doctor's eyes, eyes that have seen so much, so many things...Jim's expression grew hungry. How much knowledge this man must have. How much experience, how fascinating. Would it be possible to include the Doctor in one of his stories? It might make for an interesting ending. But how clever this man was...

"Jim." His mind focused back on reality, recollecting his thoughts. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Everyone's got to have a hobby, Doctor." The Doctor shook his head sadly, which Jim ignored. "Now, Doctor, if you don't mind, I mean, this is very interesting and all, but I have a date to get back to." The Doctor held out his arm as Jim started to leave. "Wait."

The Doctor pulled Jim farther down the corridor, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "What do you want with Sherlock Holmes?" Jim's eyes brightened. Oh, good, his favorite subject. "Well,_ Doctor_, let's just say that Mr. Holmes is part of one of my...stories." The Doctor raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "One of your stories," he repeated. Jim nodded, an animated maniacal smirk clear on his face. "He's one of my main characters." The Doctor stared at Jim for a few moments before running up to a man just checking in. "Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you. What year is it?" The man looked at the strange man like he'd gone insane, smiling nervously. "Had a bit much to drink, eh, mate?" The Doctor nodded convincingly, which seemed to be enough for just that. "Er, 2012. January 1st." The Doctor smiled politely at the bewildered man before walking back to Moriarty.

"You're doing it on January 15th." Jim's eyes grew wary, but he kept the maniacal grin on his face. "Doing what, Doctor? The only thing I do is Sebby, but you and I could give it a shot if you'd like." He winked, running a quick hand down the Doctor's front. The Doctor smiled grimly. "I don't think River will like that." Jim shrugged. "Ah, well! A lost cause!" The Doctor spun Jim back around to face him, holding him tightly by the shoulders. "You can't do it. You can't control people's lives, try to make them what you want it to be." Jim merely smiled, shrugging the Doctor's hands off his shoulders. Walking back towards the restaurant, he turned back and looked at the Doctor, smirking in a way that showed that he would enjoy this, that it would be like a challenge.

"It's only a story, Doctor. I'm just telling it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ooooooh, tension. Not really. Sorry, I had writer's block during this chapter, and once I got past the fluffy Johnlock pillow fight, I just lost it. Sorry if this chapter didn't meet your expectations :| But at least I updated, eh? I might update this weekend, too, so look out for it! Oh, and one more thing: So the chapters might not get much longer...it's just that thing where I write like four pages on WordDoc and then it turns into nothing when I post it here, so...But I'll update more often! I'll be working on my other story, Here Without You, this weekend too. I am excitable!<strong>

**Review please! ^-^**


	3. Information, More or Less

Amy and Rory watched as the Doctor walked in, his expression slightly less cheery than before. "What's wrong, Doctor?" asked Rory, taking in the look on the Time Lord's face. The Doctor shook his head as if trying to get water out of it, putting on a bright smile that only half reached his eyes. "Oh, nothing," he smiled reassuringly at the pair. "Nothing at all."

Amy shared a look with her husband before speaking up and raising her eyebrow at the Doctor suspiciously. "Doctor…"

The Doctor looked from one to the other, rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly. "Fine." Amy grinned smugly. "James Moriarty," he began, looking to make sure he had their attention, "I met him when he was only a little boy. He's now one of the most dangerous men in the world."

Rory nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "And what does he want now?"

"He wants to play."

xXxXxXxXx

"So what are you going to do?" Sebastian took another bite of his steak, cooked a delicate medium rare. Jim stirred his soup slowly, his face downcast as a small smirk formed on it.

"Spoilers."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, yeah, I know, really short chapter. So short it's hardly a chapter at all. But don't worry, I'll post the next one very very soon! I just felt this bit needed to be it's own separate chapter. Sorry if you were disappointed, my loves! <strong>


End file.
